Nothing can compare, to the stories that we share.
When we take our seat in that chair, do our work with cheerful care.
Snap, crack, pop in the pan. Take another in your hand.
Tear the end, pull the string. That’s the way we string a bean.
Sitting here having fun, telling stories in the sun.
Learning lessons about life. Hearing tales of famine and strife.
I learned so many things, when I sat down to string those beans.
Wisdom and good advice, from a woman I loved so dearly.
My own children do it now. And I know they hate it so.
But sometime far from here. I know they’ll look back and know.
Snap, crack, pop in the pan. Take another in your hand.
Tear the end, pull the string. That’s the way we string a bean.
Memories made, will be all they have. When the people they love fade to the past.
They will wish it back, for it to always last
RedRavenPoems 
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